


Bounty

by mozbee



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Gore, M/M, Revengeance, Torture, this wasn't supposed to be so dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9569699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozbee/pseuds/mozbee
Summary: Newt's meddling in different affairs over the years has earned him some powerful enemies. Someone from his past has decided to get even with Newt Scamander.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have decided to try a multi chapter story. May the gods of procrastination cease their endless whispers so I can have this completed in a timely fashion.

"My legs are asleep!"

Newt chuckled and patted Jacob's shoulder. "We won't be out here very much longer, you have my word." He stooped and plucked another bundle of dandelions. "I just wish I could find a clover..."

Jacob stood from his hunched position and staggered slightly. "Can't you just magic one up or something?"

Newt laughed. "I very well could, but it doesn't taste the same as those that occur naturally." He shrugged at Jacob's look. "That's just what I've been told."

"I think you spoil your animals too much," Jacob muttered, brushing some dirt from his pants.

"You try telling an erumpent 'no' when she is in season and craving clovers," Newt replied, grinning. He flipped the latch on his case and waved the bundled assortment of vegetation into it. "That will do for her for now. We best be getting back before Queenie has our heads for being late."

Jacob sighed happily at the thought of his girlfriend, and settled his hat firmly on top of his head. "She sure is swell, ain't she?"

"She most certainly is," Newt agreed, checking the latch on his case. He pocketed his wand, and turned to lead the way out of the small clearing in Central Park they had ventured into when a sudden loud bang startled him into spinning around. Jacob looked at him quizzically.

"What was that?"

Newt shook his head, scanning the grounds around them. "I'm not sure...it sounded similar to one of your guns."

Jacob waved his hands. "Hey, don't go calling them _my_ guns, I didn't invent the things and I don't have one, you're just unfairly generalizing..."

Twilight had fallen in their time out in the thicket, and the small clump of trees was proving hard to see clearly through, but Newt was certain the sound had come from directly in front of him. Another bang startled a curse out of Jacob, and he edged closer to Newt.

"Ya know, there's a reason most New Yorkers avoid the park after dark."

A bloodcurdling, drawn out screech sent the hair on the back of Newt's neck standing up, and his heart pounding.

"What the hell was that--Newt! Where are you going?" Jacob hissed desperately. "Don't go towards the creepy sound!"

"Unless I'm very much mistaken, that was the sound of a jobberknoll dying," Newt said grimly. Jacob frowned.

"A creature? That sounded almost human...and like something for New York's finest to concern themselves with, not a couple of hapless citizens."

"Jobberknolls don't make a sound until they are about to die, and then it is every sound they have ever heard, only backwards," Newt explained, creeping forward slowly. “They can sound human depending on what they’ve heard throughout their life.” He had no idea how far ahead of him the sound had come from, and he was wary to cast light with his wand, without knowing who or what might be ahead. He squinted through the encroaching darkness. He was struck with inspiration suddenly.

"Pickett!" The bowtruckle stuck his head out of where he had taken refuge in Newt's front pocket. "Would you take a look for me?"

Pickett chattered importantly and puffed his chest out, and Newt held his hand out to a towering oak that Pickett immediately scaled, his leafy green body soon disappearing in the heights of the tree.

"I gotta say," Jacob said, craning his neck back to watch Pickett's ascent, "I prefer your new method that doesn't involve charging headlong into the unknown."

Newt remained tense, silent, when there was another loud screech. Not a minute later Pickett came flying down the trunk, running full tilt and launching himself at Newt. He stood on his shoulder and chattered furiously in his ear, punctuating his words with sharp tugs on Newt's hair and trying to pull him away. Newt narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

"What?" Jacob asked, looking between Newt and the bowtruckle. "What did he see?"

"Turnbull," Newt growled, and clenched his wand tightly. "Absolute scum of the earth, in regards to animal cruelty. We've had run ins before."

Newt abruptly shoved his case into Jacob's arms. "He's got a couple lackeys harvesting jobberknolls, raiding their nests. Their feathers are used for a variety of things, but there's no need to kill them for them. I need you to take this and get to the Goldsteins."

Jacob gaped. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to put a stop to this, of course," Newt replied, squaring his shoulders.

"Let me help! I can...cause a distraction or something, I can do something," Jacob protested, hugging the case close to his chest. Newt shook his head.

"They would love nothing more than to get their hands on my case. I can't risk that happening."

"Well, you can't take them on by yourself! How many are there?" Jacob was growing angry. "How many times have you all told me a wand can be as fatal as a gun? You think I'm going to let you go alone against who knows how many armed guys?"

"I appreciate the concern, my friend, but they're nothing I can't handle on my own. Besides," Newt shrugged, "I've got the element of surprise on my side."

Jacob was unmoved, unhappy. Newt rested his hands on his shoulders.

"Please, Jacob, I am trusting you with all of my creatures." He held the shorter man's gaze for a long moment, broken only when Jacob flinched at yet another anguished screech.

"All right already, I'll go," he glared, "but I'm coming right back with Tina!"

Newt smiled at him. "Thank you," he said sincerely. He cast about on the ground for something he could use, and picked up a cigarette end. He gave Jacob a stern look. "This is highly illegal, so don't mention it to Mr. Graves, understand?”

Jacob looked confused but nodded obediently. Newt tapped the butt with his wand and said, " _Portus_!", picturing the back alley of the building Tina and Queenie lived in. The cigarette end glowed blue for a brief moment. "Once you take hold of this, it will bring you to the back of the Goldstein's building. You'll have to sneak yourself up. Then it will bring whoever touches it back to this spot."

"That is so cool," Jacob said, eyes shining at another facet of the wizarding world delighting him. Newt addressed Pickett next.

"Go with him, Pickett." Small hands tightened their grip on his coat accompanied with an adamant head shake. "Pickett, please. For my peace of mind?" Newt sighed at the stony glare he received. "All right, well you promise to stay hidden, am I clear?" Pickett immediately slipped back into his pocket, tucking his leaves around him and nodding up at Newt.

Newt held the cigarette butt out to Jacob, who paused in his reach for it. He narrowed his eyes at Newt.

"Nothing reckless, you hear me? Otherwise it'll be my butt on the line." Newt nodded solemnly.

"You have my word." He gestured towards his case. "Hold tight to that."

Looking only faintly apprehensive, Jacob reached out and took the proffered stub. Newt heard his short yelp of surprise when he was suddenly whipped up into a whirlwind, and Newt was left alone in the clearing.

He turned back to the heart of the bush, and raised his wand, moving forward stealthily, taking care to step quickly and quietly. With any luck he'd have the three culprits restrained before Tina arrived.

-X-

Jacob landed on shaky legs and fell against the wall behind him, panting and sweating slightly. His vision swam and he felt nauseous, head still spinning. One moment he had been facing Newt in a clearing in the middle of Central Park, and now he was stumbling about the back alley of Queenie's building. He relaxed his white knuckled grip on Newt's case, taking a quick look to check it was still securely shut, and pushed off the wall, walking unsteadily to the front of the building. He was still holding the cigarette butt, and he nonchalantly held it to his lips and pretended to inhale when he passed some people on the street, paranoid of it glowing with magical residue or something conspicuous.

He let himself into the sisters’ building, and hurried up the stairs, heart pounding, and with deep relief knocked on the apartment door. It swung open in an instant, and Queenie was standing there, as if she had been waiting for him.

"Jacob!" She breathed, pulling him inside and shutting the door behind him. She embraced him quickly, then held him at arm's length. "Do you still have the portkey?"

Tina was on the couch tugging on her shoes. "How many wizards was Newt going up against? Did he say anything about them, if he knew them or anything?"

"Uhh," Jacob faltered, trying to quickly come to terms with the two of them already knowing what was going on. Queenie gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Sorry honey, I know it's a lot to take in after your first portkey trip. We're just worried, is all."

Jacob gave her a wobbly smile in return as he was led to the chair across from Tina. Queenie narrowed her eyes slightly then spoke to her sister. "There are three of them, one named Turnbull." She glanced at Tina. "Do you know that name?"

Tina shrugged her jacket on, sliding her wand down her sleeve. "Turnbull...it sounds familiar but I can't place it."

"Drink this honey, it'll help soothe your stomach and head after your trip," Queenie told Jacob as a steaming mug floated out of the kitchen to hover in front of him. Jacob set Newt's case at his feet and took hold of the mug.

"Newt said something about him being cruel to animals, said he'd had a run in or two before with him," Jacob said, blowing on the hot drink. He nodded at the case in front of the chair. "He wanted me to take his case, said this Turnbull guy would love to get it." He raised his eyebrows in surprise when he sipped from the mug. "This is--?"

"Butterbeer," Queenie told him. Tina stood next to her sister, and they looked down at him.

"You have the portkey still?" Tina asked. Jacob nodded around a mouthful from his cup and held out the cigarette butt. He swallowed and asked, "you think he's okay?"

The sisters shared a dark look.

"He better be," Tina said, eyes flashing. The cigarette butt floated out of Jacob's hand, and Tina and Queenie reached out to touch it at the same time. With a blur of colour, they were gone, the clothes hanging by the fire rustling in the breeze.

-X-

Newt opened his eyes, groaning as he sat up, a cold wall behind him his only support. His head was pounding and he could taste blood in his mouth, pooled under his tongue. His vision swam as he straightened up against the wall with a sigh, body aching and his stomach jumping unpleasantly. It took him a minute of dazedly surveying his surroundings before his mind offered up a conclusion: he was in a cell.

He cast back into what he had been doing to land himself here; it wasn't one of the cells in the basement of MACUSA, so he hadn't tread into illegal territory and forced Tina or Mr. Graves to toss him in overnight for appearance's sake. His headache worsened the harder he thought, but he had a vague recollection of an animal screeching.

Newt gasped as he desperately searched the cell for his case, palms sweating and heart racing as several turns around the room turned up nothing more than a bench against one wall and a chamberpot underneath it. He struggled to stand on shaky legs, fingers scrabbling for a hold on the wall, and he slowly went over every corner of the small cell. No hidden niches turned up that could have been hiding the case from him. Nothing but mold under the bench.

Feeling as though he was close to fainting, he sat down heavily on the bench, holding his head in his hands and digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to fight back the fear that was building inside of him. Why was it proving so hard for him to remember what had happened? His coat was nowhere to be seen, and he hopelessly patted his waistcoat pockets for the outline of a certain bowtruckle.

A wave of terror washed over him at the thought of being alone but he firmly refused it purchase. He was not going to be cowed simply because he had no recollection of how he had come to be here, wherever here was, or who had brought him, or to what design.

After a few moments of deep breathing to steady himself, he stood and crossed the short distance to the metal bars that formed the impassable entrance to his cell. He peered down a dank corridor, leaning forward and craning his neck to the left and right as far as he could without touching the bars. Not ten feet to his left was a wooden staircase, lit with flickering lanterns, and to his right the hallway abruptly turned and he could not see any more. Directly across from his cell was a narrow window cut into the wall, and a cold breeze floated in, prompting him to wrap his arms around his middle and retreat to the bench.

Time passed, but how much he had no idea; the light streaming in from the window never dimmed or brightened, and his mind felt sluggish, focusing on any one thing proving difficult.

Newt didn't know if he would rather his captor show themselves sooner or later, but either way his anxiety wreaked havoc with the thought. If he had any inkling as to how he had got here, any sort of clue as to who he had run into, then perhaps he would be able to keep calm, but it was the unknown that was causing him to feel as though he would lose his mind.

He leaned his head against the cold wall with a sigh, trying to keep his fingers from trembling with the adrenaline that coursed through him with nowhere to go. There was a steady drip echoing throughout the cavernous hallway, leaving question to its source; the wind howled every now and then, whistling through small cracks in the wall, and an insistent chittering that grew more frenzied and high pitched the longer it went on.

Suddenly Newt's mind clicked. He wrenched his eyes open and stared wildly around the cell. "Pickett?" he hissed, wary of his voice carrying to whomever may be at the top of the stairs or down the hall. He leaned forward on the bench and stuck his head between his legs, looking in the dark corners under the bench. "Pickett?"

More squeaky chatter, and Newt was standing off the bench and hurrying to the bars, and there in the window stood a triumphant bowtruckle. In his excitement Newt crowded the bars, and cried out as he was thrown backwards from a sharp shock, sparks flying from where his hands had wrapped around the bars. He hit the back wall hard and crumpled, on his knees and panting, hands smoking. He pulled himself to his feet again, fighting off the dizziness, and moved back to the bars, slower this time, and beamed up at the window.

"You clever thing," Newt said softly, taking great comfort in seeing that Pickett was alive and well and here. "I'm fine, honestly, don't fret so," he said in response to Pickett's anxious chatter. "You just--" he cut off at the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. He quickly moved to sit on the bench, knowing Pickett would hide himself well, and steeled himself for whoever would come around the corner.

-X-

Tina jumped at a sudden voice behind her.

"What are you doing here, Tina?"

Tina bent to pick up the papers she had knocked to the floor when she startled. "Mr. Graves! You scared me," she admonished, trying to calm her pounding heart. She spread the papers back out on the table, trying to find her place again. "Oh," she said as she realized he had asked her a question. She turned to face the director. "I'm sorry sir, what did you say? I'm a bit pre-occupied at the moment."

"With what?" he asked, moving to stand beside her and peer at the papers. "I thought you went home hours ago."

"Yes sir, I did, but there's been an incident and I had to do some research," she explained. She had a thought. "Sir, do you know the name Turnbull?"

"Lionel Turnbull?" Mr. Graves asked, brow furrowed. Tina nodded. "He's a small timer looking to move up in the criminal world. He's got more dreams than brains, that's for sure," he shrugged. "Dabbles in a bit of smuggling, thievery, illegal charms. Why has he caught your interest?"

"I believe he's kidnapped Newt Scamander, sir," Tina said, her gut roiling at the words and what they really meant. She indicated the papers spread in front of her. "I came to see what we had on him, see if I could find anything about hideouts or haunts of his that could help me find him."

"What do you mean, kidnapped?" Mr. Graves asked sharply. Tina swallowed against the dryness in her throat.

"Exactly that, sir. About an hour ago Newt's friend came to our apartment and said that they had been in Central Park when they came across some wizards that were harvesting jobberknolls. Newt identified Turnbull, and sent his friend on with his case for safe keeping. Apparently the two are known to each other, sir." She held eye contact with him, watching his expression grow darker at her words. "By the time Queenie and I got there, there was evidence of a fight in the clearing, but no one was left." Tina remembered the scorch marks in the trees, the smouldering pile of leaves under an enormous branch that had been torn off a tall oak and sat jagged in the clearing.

“I assume you searched the surrounding area for any trace?”

“Yes sir. We didn’t find anything.” The sisters had traipsed all through the clearing, mindful not to disturb the scene, and had spread out to no avail. Queenie had gone home to check on Jacob when Tina returned to the offices to find out what she could about this Turnbull.

“And this isn’t going to end up being that he simply got caught up in an animal related romp and is right this minute happily chasing some beast through the park?”

Tina shook her head. “Newt knows better than to leave us wondering like this. He’s gotten an earful the last few times he did that and he’s taken it to heart ever since. This just feels…wrong. And he wouldn’t leave his case for so long, even if it’s with friends. Not when he has new creatures.”

 Mr. Graves nodded towards the files on the table. “Have you found anything yet that might suggest a location?”

Tina tugged a sheet out from under several others. “There’s an address in New Jersey that he’s linked to; he was arrested there two years ago and it was where he returned when he was released.” She shrugged. “It seems the best place to start.”

Mr. Graves nodded. “I’ll get my coat from my office and we’ll head there immediately.” He raised an eyebrow at Tina’s look. “Something wrong?”

“No sir,” she was quick to say. “I, uh, just didn’t think—“

“You thought I was going to let you go alone to a potentially dangerous situation?”

“I didn’t really think one way or the other…”

Mr. Graves shook his head as he pulled out his pocket watch. “Sometimes I don’t know if it’s you or Scamander who always gets the other into trouble,” he muttered. He turned the knob on the side of the watch. “I’m calling in Robinson and Suttor as well. They should be here by the time I’ve returned from my office. Don’t look so surprised, Tina,” he added as he headed for the door. “Scamander is one of ours; we’ll not cut any corners to get him back.”

-X-

The cold cement was rough on Newt’s cheek as he was shoved face first against the wall, arms twisted behind his back.

“You think you’re funny, Scamander?” Turnbull drawled from his relaxed stance in the doorway. “Then maybe you’ll like the real funny thing I got to tell you. Sit him down, Rich,” he told the meathead who kept Newt pinned to the wall. Rich grabbed Newt by the shoulders and shoved him across the cell to force him onto the bench, knocking Newt’s head against the wall as he did so. He moved to stand close to Turnbull, glowering at nothing, simply an intimidating tower of muscle.

“Let me guess,” Newt rasped, throat still dreadfully sore from the chokehold Rich had held him in when he had first charged in ahead of Turnbull. “You’ve taken your premature balding into account and decided to join a monastery.”

Turnbull chuckled, shaking his head as he paced back and forth in the entrance to Newt’s cell. “There’s not much to you, Scamander, but I guess it’s that sharp tongue of yours I’ll miss.”

Newt winced when a cough rattled loose from his chest and shook his abused ribs painfully. “Shall I find something about you to compliment, if that is indeed what you’re searching for?”

“Oh, we don’t have the time for that, I’m afraid,” Turnbull said, coming to a halt and facing Newt. He stretched his bloodless lips wide in a sick parody of a smile. “Oh boy, am I ever relishing this. You have no idea what’s in store for you.”

“Let’s get to it then,” Newt suggested. He was feeling somewhat more in control of his faculties; when Turnbull had appeared on the other side of the bars, he’d had memory flood back to him, and his fear had mostly diminished when he knew that Turnbull was his captor. He had a fair idea of what Turnbull was capable of.

“You see, Scamander,” Turnbull began conversationally, “in my side you are an irritable thorn. A nuisance, yes, but not something I can’t live with. But it seems you’ve made some powerful enemies since I last encountered you.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out folded black parchment. “This just made the rounds today.”

He waved it toward Newt, who obediently reached for it, his curiosity getting the better of him. The parchment was hot to the touch, and felt almost slick, as though washed in oil. He unfolded it, aware of Turnbull watching him eagerly as he read the red script burned across the surface.

Newt’s heart stuttered to a stop, and he felt as though his insides had dropped out. He was only dimly aware that his breath had caught in his throat.

“The _first_ day, and I’m the one who found you!” Turnbull cried, rubbing his hands together. “All that gold, _mine_. Turns out you are good for something after all, eh Scamander?”

Newt couldn’t answer, couldn’t try to shrug off the effect the words before him had.

 

_BOUNTY_

_100 Pounds Dragon’s Gold for the capture of NEWT SCAMANDER, Magizoologist_

_ALIVE_

 

There was a picture of Newt underneath the burning words, the same one from his wanted poster MACUSA had distributed, and a heavy signature under that.

Turnbull smirked, clearly enjoying Newt’s reaction. “Chew on that, Scamander. And enjoy your time here; it will be over sooner than you’d like.” He exited the cell, Rich following along behind, and the bars grated out from the floor and ceiling and met in the middle once they were in the hallway.

Their footsteps retreated up the stairs, and Newt finally tore his gaze away from the bounty notice, feeling sick to his stomach. He could hear Pickett at the window again, but he was having a hard time rousing himself. The bowtruckle was suddenly climbing up his leg, sharp fingers digging into his calf and thigh as he pulled himself up.

“Oh Pickett,” Newt whispered, reaching a shaking hand to lift Pickett to his eye level. “It seems we’re in a spot of trouble.”

-X-

“There’s some movement inside on the main level, but we don’t have a visual on anything other than what looks like an office,” Robinson reported, voice low. “We can’t put up any anti-Apparition wards, nor can we charm the walls. Whoever is holed up here took an awful lot of precautions.”

Graves frowned, eyes glinting in the moonlight. “Why wouldn’t they cast their own anti-Apparition wards?”

“Maybe they’re planning on leaving in a hurry,” Tina muttered, grip tightening on her wand. “Did you see any trace of Newt, Robinson?”

The other auror shook his head. Suttor suddenly melted into existence next to the group huddled on the rooftop of the building next to the warehouse they were scoping out.

“Sir,” he addressed the director, “I got a positive on Scamander’s coat. There’s some goons who don’t look like they could string two words together trying to stuff themselves into it. All a lark, apparently,” he added to Tina’s outraged look.

Graves nodded. “We’re going to move in. Assuming Scamander is in there and wandless, Goldstein, your priority is to get him out. The three of us will deal with anyone stupid enough to be inside.”

He assigned them different entrance points, then nodded at them. “Keep your wits about you. Be safe. Be vigilant. We have the element of surprise but that will only go so far.”

The four of them touched their wand tips in a salute, and moved out.

-X-

“Pickett, you have to leave. _Now_ ,” Newt beseeched the stubborn bowtruckle. “I can’t promise to look after you.” Pickett was glaring at him and he resolutely burrowed deeper into Newt’s pocket. “Pickett, please. It will be easier if I don’t have to worry about you as well.”

Newt reached down and gently grabbed Pickett, and sighed when he felt the lining of his pocket pull out with the bowtruckle. “Do stop with the theatrics. All I am telling you is that my plan to escape hinges very much on being able to focus exclusively on the task at hand, not having to worry about whether you’re still with me or not.”

Pickett considered him sulkily, his leaves drooping. After a long moment he chattered snappishly, and reached and plucked one of his new leaves from his arm. He slid down Newt’s arm and pressed it deep into the pocket he had been in, and glared up at Newt.

“Thank you Pickett,” Newt told him sincerely. “Now go. If you wait outside I’ll find you once I’m free—“

Pickett was suddenly blasted off of Newt’s knee. Newt cried out, his heart clenching painfully as the bowtruckle was thrown clear across the room. He lurched to his feet to grab the crumpled figure against the wall but he was knocked off course, slamming into the wall behind the bench. He gasped as his chest was crushed by some unseen force, pushing him from the bench and forcing him to writhe on the ground from the pain his ribs were cracking under.

Blackness threatened his vision, the cell wavering in and out of focus. His lungs burned and he was seconds away from unconsciousness when abruptly the pressure let up. He lay gasping on the floor, hands shaking over his chest, reflexively wanting to soothe the pain but unable to do anything. Someone moved quietly into the cell, their footsteps barely making any sound as they crossed to crouch next to him.

Newt looked into the cold face of Gellert Grindelwald, desperately trying to steady his breathing even as his mind raced with fear for Pickett.

The dark wizard looked him up and down, head to toe, taking in his muddied and torn waistcoat and face flushed with the effort of evening out his breaths.

“Mr. Scamander,” he said, his voice as pleasant as if the two of them were neighbours running into each other at the market. His eyes turned menacing then, and his jaw tightened momentarily.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

-X-

Tina viciously stunned the mountain of the man that had been coming up behind Suttor, who nodded his appreciation at her when the brute fell. Suttor had his cloak wrapped around his arm, trying to slow the bleeding a particularly nasty hex had caused.

Tina scanned the warehouse. Six wizards were subdued on the ground, knocked out and bound tightly. Graves was helping Robinson stand up. It seemed as though they had taken out all of the opposing wizards. Tina approached the other aurors.

“We need to get to the office and see if Newt is in there,” she told them. Graves nodded.

“I want the two of you to stand guard over these six until the recovery squad gets here,” he told Robinson. “Suttor, are you all right?”

Suttor nodded, face having gone a bit pale. “It was an Ever Bleed curse he got me with, sir, but now that I’ve had a minute to breathe I’ve sorted it out.”

“Have a healer look over you when they get here,” the director ordered. “Goldstein, with me.”

The two of them hurried across the floor of the warehouse, making for the office tucked away in a corner. Graves held his hand up to stop Tina as they stood in front of the door. She held back, wand raised, and he stood back and in one smooth motion kicked the door open.

A line of red instantly shot past the door, a perfect hit if Graves had entered the room. He had scarcely crossed the threshold when he was spinning to his right and shooting off a crackling spell. Tina heard a muffled curse and a thud, and she hurried in behind Graves, and took in the sight of a wizard laying sprawled on the floor, fighting against the bonds that held his arms tight to his sides. He spat at Graves as he and Tina approached.

“Turnbull,” Graves said conversationally, squatting next to the man and taking his wand from where it lay on the floor. “Did you get in over your head again?”

“Nice to see you still have impeccable timing, _director,”_ Turnbull snarled. He grimaced as the wire thin ropes squeezed around him. ‘And here I was worried you had gone soft, what with letting yourself get caught by Grindelwald without so much as a fight.” He cried out as Graves narrowed his eyes and the ropes shone a vivid red.

“I happen to be looking for someone, Turnbull,” Graves spoke as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “A certain magizoologist. You wouldn’t happen to have any clue as to who I mean, would you?”

Turnbull stopped fighting his bonds, and set an evil smirk on the director. “So you traced him here, did you?” He snorted. “Fat lotta good it’ll do you now, though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Tina snapped from where she stood behind Graves. Turnbull turned his bright eyes to her.

“Too little, too late.”

Tina’s stomach dropped but Graves didn’t take the bait. “You know co-operation is in your best interest, Turnbull.”

Turnbull shrugged as much as he could. “I mighta seen him, about, oh, ten minutes ago. No telling where he is now though.”

Half of the recovery squad suddenly appeared in the office with them, two aurors and a healer. “Director,” the healer addressed Graves, “we’ve transported Robinson and Suttor. Do either of you require medical assistance?”

Graves shook his head. “But stick around, because someone else might in a minute.”

Turnbull laughed. “What a terrifying threat, director. You’ll have to do better than that, though.”

“Have those six been brought to MACUSA?” Graves asked auror Darryll.

“Yes sir. We swept the perimeter as well, just in case. There’s nobody else on the property.”

“We need to go over every inch of this building. Darryll, bring Mr. Turnbull to join his friends please.” He took Tina aside and said in a low voice, “Turnbull was hiding out in this office for a reason. There’s something in here he was trying to keep hidden.”

Tina nodded as Darryll hauled Turnbull to his feet and the two of them disapparated. Graves crossed to the south wall, wand out, probing the air for charms hiding something from their sight. Tina did the same along the opposite wall. The air in front of her distorted suddenly. “Sir!”

She tapped the wavering bubble with her wand. Graves came to stand beside her, and after a moment of contemplation raised his own wand. A thick silver hand emerged from the end of it, and it wrapped itself around the invisible barrier. It pulled back, and slowly the illusion of nothing fell away to reveal a crumbling door frame set at the top of a staircase.

“Stay up here and keep an eye out,” Graves told the auror of the recovery squad. He started down the staircase, lanterns hanging from the wall lighting the way. Tina followed close behind, anxious to see what would be awaiting them at the bottom.

At the foot of the staircase Graves paused, and Tina peered out from behind him, the short hallway they stood in dimly lit with lanterns. She saw an open room ahead of them, and made to push past Graves when he held an arm out to stop her.

"Sir?”

“Don’t you feel that, Tina?” he murmured, brow tight. “That magic…” he trailed off. “Never mind,” he said roughly, but Tina didn’t miss how his jaw clenched and grip on his wand tightened.

He led the way to the doorway on their right, across from a window cut into the wall, and Tina scanned inside with dismay. There was nothing but a bench stuck in the wall. She wandered into the room and jumped when she heard a rough grating behind her, and spun around to see bars suddenly separating her from Graves.

“A cell…” she breathed, and turned an intense gaze into the small room, eyes straining to pick out details. She bent over the bench, hearing the bars open again behind her, and her stomach fluttered unpleasantly. She ran her finger over a dark stain on the wall above the bench; it came back wet with blood.

Graves gave her finger a grim look, and he turned with his wand out, then lifted his foot suddenly, and they both saw the blood on the floor he had stepped in. Tina kept a steady grip on her nerves.

“Maybe—“ she began but cut herself off when she heard what sounded like squeaking. Cautiously she lowered herself to her knees, illuminating her wand tip and peering underneath the bench. “Oh!” she gasped, and Graves was instantly kneeling next to her, and he watched as she reached and gently pulled Pickett out.

“Pickett,” Tina said softly, her heart breaking at the split that threatened to sever the bowtruckle in half. Pickett tried to speak, but she hushed him when a clear liquid dribbled from his mouth. It pooled on her hand, warm and thick, like sap. He was surprisingly hot to touch.

“What’s he holding?” Graves asked quietly. Tina gently took the parchment Pickett clung to, bigger than the bowtruckle himself, and she laid it flat on the bench and Graves held his wand over it for light.

Tina had to force herself not to squeeze Pickett to death when she read the bounty notice. She couldn’t help the gasp when she read Grindelwald’s signature, her eyes fixed on the picture of Newt that looked sheepishly up at her.

Pickett squeaked desperately in her hand, and she tore her eyes away from the parchment. The bowtruckle was tugging at the sagging leaves on his head, what Tina had always considered his ‘hair’, and the sap was oozing out of the split in his middle.

“Be still, Pickett,” she urged, reaching a finger comfortingly. She looked at Graves helplessly. “I don’t know the first thing about medical care for bowtruckles.”

Graves was staring at the bounty notice with an unreadable expression on his face. He shook himself from his reverie. “I bet you’ll find everything you need in Scamander’s case.” They both stood, Tina cradling Pickett in both hands.

She blinked back tears that threatened at the corners of her eyes at the sight of the pitiful creature in her hands. If Pickett died…

“Tina,” Graves said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find Newt. Alive and well.” He waved the bounty notice. “This doesn’t mean he’s been taken by Grindelwald. Now get to Newt’s case and help that bowtruckle,” he ordered. His face softened briefly when he looked at Pickett.

Tina nodded. “What are you going to do, sir?”

Graves’ eyes flashed. “I’ll be paying Mr. Turnbull a visit.”

-X-

_Four_.

How many fingernails Newt still had.

_Two_.

How many times he’s slipped into unconsciousness.

_Three_.

How many times Grindelwald sent a pulse of agonizing electricity through him to wake him up.

_Countless._

How many times Newt has wondered about Pickett, his heart aching at the remembered shriek when the bowtruckle had been blasted across the cell.

“You see, Mr. Scamander,” Grindelwald said, casual as anything, “you denied me something. And life is nothing but a business transaction, correct?”

Newt couldn’t be bothered to muster the effort to lift his aching head from the cold table. Grindelwald’s words washed over him, almost hypnotic in quality.

“In all fairness, I’m afraid it is my turn to deny you something. _Quid pro quo,_ hmm?” Grindelwald smiled at him.  Then he frowned, and bent forward, bringing his face a hands’ breadth from Newt’s. He pushed back Newt’s top lip with his thumb; Newt tried to jerk his head away but was caught in a grip of iron.

“Dear me,” the dark wizard muttered. “Is this tooth loose, Mr. Scamander?” He ran his finger over Newt’s left eyetooth. Newt pressed his head against the table he was held to, trying to escape the probing finger to no avail. Grindelwald caught his gaze, and smiled. “Allow me.”

There was a pressing heat emanating from Grindelwald’s fingertips, and Newt choked on a pained cry when he heard a sharp crack, tears running from the corners of his eyes when a white hot pain engulfed him, his tooth being wiggled back and forth unbearably slow, being pulled from his gums almost lazily. He screamed when it was suddenly wrenched free, and his mouth was filled with tangy blood, running down the back of his throat, choking him.

Grindelwald leaned back, letting go of Newt’s head so he could turn and spit and cough, desperately breathing around the hot blood in his mouth. He held the tooth aloft, studying it in the light.

“What a wonderful specimen,” he mused. He smiled down at Newt, who panted on the table, fists clenched at his sides, unable to move save for his neck and head. “I do believe it comes in a pair, does it not?”

He leaned forward and once again pulled Newt’s lip out of the way, fingers quickly coated in sticky blood. Newt’s heart beat a panicked tattoo in his chest, and he was sweating, as his other eyetooth was gripped between two fingertips, his head held in place, and when he felt the heat start to build he couldn’t control his panic and he bit down. Hard.

Grindelwald ripped his hand back, face twisting furiously. He drew his hand back and struck Newt hard across the face. He threw himself in Newt’s face, breath hot as he growled, “it seems I _owe you one_ , Mr. Scamander.”

He mercilessly dug his finger into the gaping hole Newt’s tooth had been, and it felt as though there was a spike being driven into his brain from his mouth up. Newt cried out, the sound garbled through the hand in his mouth. He thrashed under the dark wizard, his whole body vibrating, tossing his head, trying to break free of the spell that kept him immobile to no avail.

Grindelwald backed off suddenly, his right hand thoroughly coated in blood. He had a manic look in his eyes, and his hair had fallen to disarray, but in an instant he had calmed, taking a deep breath, delicately pushing his hair back into place, adjusting the high collar of his black shirt. He cocked his head to the side, considering Newt carefully. He turned to the tray that hovered behind him patiently, running his fingers over an array of gleaming instruments, each more insidious than the last.

He picked up what looked like a platinum tooth, that pulsed and stretched and shrank in his grip. He caught Newt’s terrified look, eyes fixed on the blade, and smiled at Newt.

“Best not to get ahead of ourselves,” Grindelwald said, and much to Newt’s relief he laid it back down. He spent some time with hands hovering over the tray, glancing at Newt every so often and back to the torture devices. He nodded knowingly, making a selection. He conjured a chair that had him sitting eye level with Newt. He held a slim silver stick, hardly an inch long, out for Newt to examine.

“This is called the sliver,” he explained, turning it this way and that so it caught the light. He leaned in close to Newt, and asked conspiratorially, “would you like to know what it does?”

Newt shut his eyes and turned his head away, lips trembling, and he tensed when his waistcoat and shirt were ripped from him in one fluid motion and draped across his knees. He tried his hardest to not give Grindelwald the satisfaction of knowing his pain, but when his skin was lifted and the sliver wiggled in underneath and began to work its way through his gut, tearing as it went, he couldn’t hold back the anguished scream that echoed in the chamber.

Grindelwald placed his hand on Newt’s chest, and the sliver stilled in its movements. “I think,” he said over Newt’s harsh breathing, “that this is the beginning of a long and fruitful relationship, Mr. Scamander.”

He lifted his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked what you read. The second chapter will be hella dark. Like, midnight black paint covering the gaping abyss where a ginger's soul should be dark. I appreciate any critique and reserve the right to cry unashamedly at any errors pointed out because I am fragile. I hope to have the second chapter up in two weeks at the most. Thanks for reading :)  
> PS: Mr. Graves in the office; Graves in the field.


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